Swish coffee shop on swanky seaside plaza

It certainly entices, as his throat is parched

Looks right, left, and right again to cross

 

“Just inside here sir, table for one?”

He chooses to sit outside under plastic cover

It’s drizzling but no choice in the matter really

 

“Large skinny latte, shot of gingerbread”

“Suppose I’ll get ripped off" he mutters

Now, the real reason for his beverage stop...

 

Hand reaches almost radar like, into side pocket,

everyone knows why he fumbles

A nervous, shaky hand pulls out the paraphernalia,

tobacco, paper, roller, lighter

 

Both hands now tremble during the procedure 

Was it really only an hour since the last stop?

That was a ‘quickie’ outside Tesco, cheap fags

from a packet, in another pocket, concealed.

Same cause, lesser affect.

 

Even as he looks at the skull and crossbones

The addiction is too strong for the harrowing

messages to ever register. Hooked in this fight.

Strike a light

The Urban Poet 2020